


Ocean Eyes

by KennieRhea



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alexios is Deimos (Assassin's Creed), F/M, I suck at tags, Kidnapping, Mentions of past abuse, Rescue, Reward, kind of slow burn i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennieRhea/pseuds/KennieRhea
Summary: While on a mission to clear a fort, Deimos finds a female alone in a room, broken and hurt. Choosing to spare the female's life, he brings her back to the Cult as his reward.
Relationships: Alexios!Deimos (Assassin's Creed)/Original Female Character, Alexios!Deimos (Assassin's Creed)/Reader, Deimos (Assassin's Creed)/Original Female Character, Deimos (Assassin’s Creed)/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 89





	1. The Mission

Late into the night, Deimos was pulled to a meeting by the Ghost of Kosmos. “Go, destroy the Spartan forces in Artemisa Fort on Kos. You will be greatly rewarded if you return successfully.” Without a second thought, Deimos left the Cult’s cave in Delphi, grabbed a horse, and headed for the docks where a ship waited for him.  


“I hate sailing,” Deimos thought to himself, sitting on one of the benches behind the commander of the ship. The male’s armor caught the light, the gold almost radiating the light that hit it to make the demi-god seem even more godly. He could tell that some of the crew feared him, and it was right for them to do so; after all, he did kill a man without a second thought for betraying the Cult and exposing one of their links to the war.  
People who hear of the god-like Deimos fear his presence more than if Zeus would take form in front of them, Deimos would strike down anyone in seconds. 

When the ship docked on the island of Kos, Deimos stepped off to go find the Fore he was told to wipe out. “Kill every guard in the Fort - they are a priority - prisoners, slaves, workers, and innocents are to your disposal. Remember, you will be rewarded for your success,” the Ghost’s words echoed in Deimos’ mind as he neared Artemisa Fort. Of course, he could sneak and be smart about his approach to killing the guards, but where is the fun in that? He strode into the front gates, killing the first five guards with the Sword of Damokles without flinching or being touched. Going further into the Fort became tougher for him, having to fight the guards around him then. 

After clearing out the fort, Deimos searched the rooms, collecting the gold pouches, weapons, and supplies before entering the Polemarch’s quarters. Having killed the Polemarch earlier, he opened the door with no issue and walked straight to the large Nation chest in the back room. What he did not expect to find was a female chained to the wall near the Polemarch’s bedroll. He slowly walked over to the female, noticing that she was close to his age while also seeing the multitude of bruises on her smaller body. As he bent down to her level, he noticed her breath hitch and her flinch away from him. His brows furrowed in thought, “You think I mean to harm you?” He asked, trying to keep his - normally booming - voice soft in front of the scared female.  
“Yes,” came the female’s voice: soft and cracking as if it had either been used too much or not enough. “Take what you want, just please don’t-” she started before looking to the male in front of her, her eyes widening slightly as she stopped pulling against the chains on her wrists. He looked like a god-made-real to her, and little did she know he thought the same of her. “Don’t hurt me, please,” she whispered out, her eyes not leaving his.  
“What is your name?” Deimos asked carefully.  
“Callista,” she replied softly, remembering how she was told to never share her name to those outside of the fort. Her eyes wandered over Deimos’ armor slightly, concerned about the blood covering parts of the supposed white and gold that was meant to protect him. “How did you get to me?” She asked, seeing the male fumbled with the keys she had seen her captor dangle in front of her as a false hope of her escaping and running for help.  
“I killed everyone,” Deimos replied flatly, but his tone was demeaning without him realizing it. The female glued her gaze to the floor in front of her, away from him, until she heard the clicking of a lock near her left wrist, her arm falling close to her body instinctively, looking at the redness around her wrist from the chain holding her to the wall while the guards were not using her “company” to distract from their break from patrolling the Fort. When her right wrist was released, she wrapped her arms around her midsection, finally able to relax from the tension in her shoulders from the chains. The one cuff around her right ankle worried her most, seeing the male’s eyes shift darker at the look of her wrists and arms, she wondered how he would be after seeing her ankle’s wounds.  
“Who are you?” She asked as Deimos was unlocking the last bind she had. When the metal that held her for so long fell limp from her skin, she winced at the look of her ankle; the once blemish-free skin now rubbed so much it was raw and burned from the men dragging her around for their use.  
“My name is Deimos,” the male said, a growl to his voice the female never expected to hear. “Who did this to you?” He asked, looking into the female’s eyes.  
Callista’s head dropped slightly, her gaze landing on her ankle, “The Polemarch brought me here and chained me to this wall, but I think the more appropriate answer would be, “Who hasn’t done anything to me?” I think every guard has…” she said, the female’s eyes becoming speckled with tears forming at the mere thought of what had been done to her over the past months she had been in Artemisa Fort.  
“Don’t speak of it,” Deimos said firmly, “You will be freed from that past, only if you agree to come with me. I was promised a reward for clearing this fort of its guards, and I’ve done that.” Callista looked at Deimos as he spoke, her blue eyes meeting his golden-brown eyes, nodding as she took a shaky breath. “Good,” was all he said before standing and offering her his hand.


	2. Telling Stories

After a few-days-long ship ride back to Phokis, a land Callista thought she would never see, the two walked into a mysterious cave next to the building that housed the Pythia. Once they entered the deeper sanction of the cave, she was met by people in a type of armor that she had never seen before. They wore all silver armor and masks with horrid faces imprinted onto them, snakes molded into the breastplates they wore to cover their chest. Before she could register anything happening to her, she felt the hands that were gripping her arms as tightly as the men back in Artemisa Fort. Callista’s blue eyes widened as she immediately tensed and turned her head away from the two people holding onto her, wincing and whimpering in pain from her still-sensitive wounds Deimos had a doctor tend to while still on Kos - he then threatened the doctor to not speak of their presence or he would be paid with death and not gold.  
“Release her!” Came Deimos’ voice, booming and threatening while also being protective and possessive over the dark-haired female. When the guards - that is what Callista thought they were anyway - did not budge, Deimos unsheathed his sword, “Did I stutter or whisper, you fools?!” He growled. The guards seemed to tighten their grips on the fragile female, her face showing her pain before her voice failed her and another slight cry of pain left her lips as Deimos visibly tightened his grip on his sword.  
“Do as he says,” a female’s voice said. In an instant, Callista’s arms were freed from the harsh and tight holds of the two guards; the female’s heart was pounding against her chest when they dropped her arms, she fell to the ground with the force of how they dropped her. Standing, she started slowly inching away from the two masked soldiers to stand slightly behind Deimos; they seemed to fear the male that saved her life. “What is the meaning of bringing a non-Cultist female with you, Deimos?” The female asked, slowing stepping forward into sight. She wore all black garbs, a snake armband on her left arm, and a golden-white mask with eyes crying red.  
“You said that if I returned successful from clearing Artemisa Fort, I would be rewarded. She is what I choose to be my reward,” Deimos said, motioning to the scared looking female beside him. Callista looked to Deimos, hearing the gasps and muttering that ensued after his statement. The male motioned for Callista to walk forward, closer to the circle of robed people, her gaze staying downward as she walked. She felt the multitude of eyes on her bruised skin and wrapped her arms around herself in a feeble attempt to hide from their prying eyes.  
“Do you have proof that you were successful?” The same female asked, stepping closer to Callista and Deimos, Callista moving back slightly to be slightly behind Deimos. Deimos huffed slightly, annoyed at her questioning and how Callista reacted, handing the woman the Polemarch’s seal and a treasure from the Nation’s Chest. At the sight of the metal piece and the bracelet Deimos showed, Callista looked away as if that action could wipe away the horrors that man Deimos killed brought upon her. “Good, she is yours then,” the woman said with a wave of a hand.  
“But, Ghost, how can we trust her with my child? My child of Hera, there must be something different you want as your reward,” Another woman said, her voice sounding older and sharper and more venomous than the “Ghost’s” voice. Deimos turned to the voice, his eyes having a fire behind them that silenced the voice of who claimed to be his mother.  
“Deimos let her live and killed everyone else that walked the grounds of the fort, she must know of the power he yields. He chose her, his choice stands. You two may go, Deimos,” the Ghost said gently, looking to the Callista before returning to the group to talk over things. 

The female stayed silent as the male led her into a room with a large bedroll, multiple pillows, a table, and cooking space that Callista could only assume was Deimos' private room.  
"This is where you will stay with me," Deimos said, "Someone will bring you something more comfortable tomorrow morning, something to establish who you are to the Cult and me." All Callista did was nod and gently brush her fingers over her wrist, the bandages coming loose from the guards’ grips before they were allowed to leave.  
"Is there anything you would like me to do, Deimos?" Callista asked quietly, falling into her previous habits: not meeting his eye, only asking him if she could serve him. The Polemarch and his guards had deeply damaged the once happy, bright, girl from Kos.  
"Yes," Deimos said, walking over to the female from where he had gone to rest his sword against the wall. He saw Callista visibly tense, her hands balling into fists so tight he was worried that her nails would break her skin. "Let me rebandage your wrists, and bandage your ankle. It doesn't need to get worse," he said, surprising Callista.  
Callista sat in a chair as told to by Deimos, her gaze never rising to meet his. "Why do you care about me?" She asked softly, "None of the guards at the fort did, the Polemarch made sure of that."  
"I can't break what I've earned. I won't get another prize," was all Deimos said with a smirk. Callista nodded, not looking into his eyes. "While I do this, tell me about yourself and how you came to be in the fort."  
Callista took it as an order, not a request. "I was born to a rich family on Kos. My father is a Drachmae hungry man who uses his money to show the spine he doesn't have, my mother died shortly after I turned thirteen which left my father to care for my two brothers and me," she stopped talking when Deimos moved to care for her ankle, hissing slightly in pain as his fingers barely grazed the raw wound. "My father gave or sold me to the Polemarch of the fort you found me in. I don't know how long I was there," she said softly, tears forming in her eyes from the pain in her ankle and the memory of being kidnapped from her home and waking up in the Polemarch's quarters in the night some months ago. As a tear rolled down Callista's pale cheek, she sighed softly. "Is there anything else you want to know, Deimos?" She asked carefully.  
"What did they do to you?" He asked, his tone shifting to one of anger. "Tell me what position your father holds and I'll make sure he's taken down for this."  
Callista shook her head, "I can't," was all she could say before Deimos turned her head to look into his eyes, his golden eyes meeting her blue eyes that now swam with tears. "They hit me, and the others. I was a slave to them, treated the same as the ones in the cages but given different tasks," she whispered out, her gaze wavering as she left the most gruesome facts to herself.  
"And?"  
"I can't tell my father's political ranking. It could endanger my siblings more than they already are. You and your Cult already know of them," Callista said, looking at Deimos with a sad look. The demi-god sighed and dropped his gaze, rolling his golden-hued eyes before walking off to grab his sword and leaving. After a few seconds, Callista finally let out the shaky breath and sob she bit back before, covering her mouth with her hand to soften the noise. The female was exhausted, mentally and physically. She slowly made her way to the bedroll, laying down on the furthest side from the door, not facing the door, falling asleep as tears ran down her cheeks. 

When Deimos returned, he saw the female on the bedroll, finally at peace. Her dreams did not seem to be like his, plagued with nightmares and terror. He took off his armor as quietly as possible and took to sleeping on a chair, not wanting to invade Callista's privacy. He was determined to find her father, and make him pay in some fashion. Deimos stopped his thought, "Why do I feel this protective over her?" He wondered, looking back to the dark-haired female that laid on the bedroll. Deimos sighed softly, succumbing to Morpheus’s spell that carried him to dream. 

When Deimos woke, he noticed the female turn in her sleep, a look of pain crossing her features before resting back at peace. The demi-god wondered if the pain was from the dream or physical feeling. He dressed in his armor, leaving to train again with anger surging through his veins. 

Whoever hurt Callista would pay with death or torture by his hands or order to the Cult.


	3. Learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the love on this story of mine! It means the world to me that this has received some sort of feedback. 
> 
> Chapter uploads may be slow in the coming months due to being a full-time college student, but I will try to write during the semester. :)

When Callista woke, she was alone in the room. She sighed softly, running her fingers through her curls gently - the color of her curls being the same as her mother's, black as pitch. She stood from the bedroll, careful of her right foot, and made her way to the area near the back of the room. There she found enough food supplies to make a nice meal for Deimos and herself, smiling slightly. Before she could get started, the female who took Deimos' side the day before walked in wearing her Cultist garbs. "These are for you," she said, holding a thinner navy dress that was cut to flaunt Callista's figure, golden sandals and a matching belt, and snake-themed jewelry that she had seen the other Cultists wear and some extra pieces.   
"Thank you," Callista said quietly, walking over to the woman.   
“Of course, if you are going to be with us you have to wear these pieces to be identified as an ally.”

While Callista dressed behind a standing curtain, the woman stayed in the room and placed the snake armband on the correct arm and explained to Callista that she would have to keep the armband on as much as possible while in the eyesight of any Cult member - Cultist or guardian. After knowing that Callista was ready, the female nodded in approval before bidding her goodbye and leaving the room. Callista looked down at her new dress, seeing how the dress showed her figure while being modest in an aspect; a small smile grew onto the female’s lips as she thought of the dresses she had at her home on Kos. She shook those thoughts from her mind as she moved to begin on the meal she had planned for Deimos and herself. After all, the male did save her from the wrath of her father and the soldiers that would reoccupy the fort - Spartan or Athenian.

As she finished dishing up the meal she made earlier, Deimos walked into the room, slamming the door shut behind him which made Callista jump. She looked at him, and he looked at her. "Is everything alright, Deimos?" The female asked softly, snapping Deimos from his thoughts. All Callista heard was mumbling about training new, useless, recruits to be guardians until she mentioned that she made some food for them. She could have sworn, Deimos' gaze became softer the second she mentioned food, "Sit down, I'll bring it to you," she offered gently. Surprisingly, the male did what she asked, sitting down and groaning softly as he did. She gently sat his plate in front of him, then set hers down across the table from him, seeing how tense he was as she looked to him. She chose not to speak as she grabbed the bread slices she prepared for them and sat the bowl between them.  
"Where did you learn how to make this?" Deimos asked after taking a bite of the food she made.   
Callista smiled slightly, "One of the servants of my father's house taught me not long after my mother left with the ferryman," she said, smiling slightly at the memory. “I hope it is to your liking,” she said, her smile faltering as she thought he was asking because it was not up to a par he had set.   
“I would say if it wasn’t to my liking,” he said as he took another bite, willing his mind to remember that she came from a family wealthy enough to have multiple servants under one household. The rest of the meal was spent in silence, Callista collecting the dishes once the two of them were done eating. 

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Callista and Deimos began to form respect for each other; mostly Callista knowing how to not set Deimos off into a rage-state. In the third month of her being labeled as “Deimos’ reward,” Callista waited for Deimos to return from training the new Guardians and Protectors - the names the Cult gave their soldiers. When the male did return, Callista heard his breaths come out in angered pants. “Deimos?” She asked softly, standing from her spot, a book she found now abandoned. When she looked at the demi-god, she saw that he was visibly shaking with anger.   
The male started to take his armor off, his body working as a machine running on muscle memory. Multiple of the Cultists doubted his training of the new men and women soldiers and treated him worse than normal that day. They called him weak for saving Callista. WEAK. As Deimos took off his heavy armor, Callista saw a gash in his arm, right near the sleeve of his chiton. He hissed slightly when he brushed the wound, looking at it.   
“Let me help you,” the female said, breaking the fog in Deimos’ mind for a moment. She carried a jar of clean water and some pieces of white linen cloth. She gently guided him to sit in a chair as she began to work on the wound, cleaning it gently. Callista worried about Deimos, the male who brought her from Kos to Phokis and away from the Polemarch that only intended to use her for his pleasure.   
"You never told me what they did to you in the fort," Deimos said, looking to the female tending to his wound.  
Callista shook her head slightly, the star-shaped pins - another gift from the female who took her corner weeks ago - holding some of her curls back from her face, "It no longer matters what happened to me." When Callista looked to Deimos, his golden eyes said everything he wanted to. She sighed softly, “You already took care of them, it does not matter anymore,” she said, smiling slightly as she finished bandaging the wound of Deimos’ arm with actions of an expert. Deimos nodded some, looking to her. “Here, eat. You trained for longer today,” she said, handing him a plate of food before grabbing her own. 

After dinner, Deimos sat in the corner of the cool room. He had been slowly becoming used to sharing the room with Callista, giving her the privacy she deserved. Callista retired to the bedroll earlier than usual, quickly falling asleep. Deimos retired to his section of the room, sleeping on the chair he had slept in for the past few months. "Deimos?" Callista quietly asked, looking to him.   
He hummed in response.   
“It’s colder tonight,” she said, lifting the blankets in a silent invitation for him to join her in the warmth that the bedroll provided.   
The male looked to her with wondering and anxious eyes, “Are you-”  
“Yes, Deimos, I’m sure,” she said, interrupting the male without a second thought. If Deimos ever wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already. “Come on,” she said, her voice gentle and caring.   
The male sighed softly, making his way to Callista and the bedroll, laying down gently, giving her room. Callista saw Deimos relax some under the blankets, a soft smile forming on her lips as she turned away from him to give him privacy as he slept. 

In the middle of the night, Callista woke to Deimos muttering in his sleep before he suddenly gasped for air and sat up straight as Callista looked to him, “Deimos?” She asked gently. The male sharply turned to look at her, his forehead having a thin layer of sweat, tears pooling in his golden eyes that only showed fear. She sat against the wall carefully, opening her arms to him like a mother would her scared child. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked, slowly dropping her arms to her lap.  
“No,” he said defensively, sitting cross-legged beside her. “Why do you care, anyway?”  
“You rescued me, the least I can do is be kind to you in return,” the curly-haired woman said. “I don’t like talking about my nightmares either,” she admitted, “but it does help to know that someone is there to talk to or help you through the motions of waking up after."  
Deimos looked to her, searching her eyes for any sign of lying or trickery, but saw none in her deep blue eyes. He just nodded some, looking down at his lap.   
“I will always be here for you, to talk or to listen,” Callista said gently, smiling softly. “Try to get more sleep, you need it,” she said, noticing the darkened skin under his golden eyes. She could easily get lost in the pools of gold that held back so many secrets behind fortified walls, but Callista had to keep her guard up, knowing Deimos could send her away in seconds if he wanted. 

The LAST thing she wanted was to be put back in a situation similar to the one she was in while being held in the fort on Kos.


	4. Trusting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thank you so much for the support on this story. Due to school work piling up - I'm taking fifteen hours - I don't know when updates will be coming. I plan on working on the story as much as possible since it is in a separate file then just on this site. 
> 
> Please leave comments with advice or anything else! That's what drives me to write more and update more often. :)

Over the months after Deimos brought Callista from Kos as his reward, he has been fighting stronger, more cooperative with the Cult’s plans, the model weapon shaping for them. The demi-god was less reckless as the months drew on, that was until Elpenor was found dead. Callista had watched the gathering from the shadows, hearing Deimos’ anger from outside their shared room, the last time she heard an exclamation like that was when Deimos returned from a mission to a lie unfolding in front of him. The dark-haired female rushed out at the sound of Deimos’ yell and clanging of metal on the floor, being stopped by a Guardian while she was still out of sight of the Cult members. The majority of them, especially the one who called Deimos her son, did not like her presence even after almost six months of her being Deimos’ reward.  
The female had to cover her mouth to cover the gasp she let out at the sight of Deimos haphazardly throwing a severed head towards the Cultists. “Elpenor is dead!” He announced with a tired, pissed off tone. “One of you is a traitor!” Deimos spoke, beginning to walk in the inner ring of the Cultists, “The Artifact will expose them.”   
Callista moved forward a bit, still hidden, but able to watch the man she grew close to change from the Deimos she knew to the Deimos the Cultists knew. The male’s voice now dripped venom, as if he was a snake teasing their prey with false hopes. The female flinched at the sudden yell from Deimos as he threw one random Cultist towards the pyramid-shaped object in the center of the room. “Everyone will be tested,” she heard his voice drag out, showing his power over them. She saw the soldier bend down, his lips moving before he roughly yanked the Cultist’s hand onto the object as it began to glow. The female’s blue eyes widened in shock, wonder filling them.   
Callista was snapped from her trance by hearing Deimos say, “Go,” with a quiet, yet deadly tone before picking someone else. The same word came effortlessly after the second Cultist, but with the third Cultist, something. Callista saw pain cross Deimos’ face for a split second before the two shared whispered words and he let them go with a stronger voice than the others before. The next robed person was not so lucky, Callista turning away as she saw Deimos lift and throw the body as if it was a bag of air, then begin to punch the person without remorse.

When Deimos returned to their room, Callista looked to Deimos, fear in her eyes. She did not dare speak, feeling fear for the first time in months.   
“Callista?” The male asked softly, seeing her eyes and hearing her careful breaths. She wordlessly grabbed a bowl of clean water and linen to address the wounds on his right hand from killing the traitor that was in their midst. Deimos moved to sit down, watching the female’s movements carefully. Why was she scared?  
As Callista tended to his hand, her own smaller ones trembled, scared of the male in front of her. She witnessed Deimos’ full strength for the first time after he cleared Artemisa Fort.   
“What did you see or hear, Callista?” Deimos asked her in his normal tone, the sarcastic tone he used with the Cult. When the female stayed silent, he clenched his fists, “Answer me!” He yelled at the female, causing her to flinch and move her hands to her chest as a form of protection. Callista’s eyes went wide, the same look she gave him in the Polemarch’s quarters in that damned fort he found her in. “Callista,” he said quietly as he tried to calm himself down, “tell me, what did you see me do?” He asked gently, breathing deeply as he reached towards her. They had made so much progress, she had started to tell him more of what happened before she was left in the fort.   
“I-I saw the entire act, Deimos, starting with you throwing Elpenor’s head,” she said in a whisper. “I heard you kick the fire pit over and thought you were hurt.” The female gently and carefully reached for his wounded hand again. “Let your hand relax, it’s tearing the wound open more,” she said, her tone carrying almost no emotion.   
“One of our own has turned against us, Callista, I had to,” Deimos said, hissing slightly when Callista applied a healing cream the demi-god had gotten her from his travels to use on her then-still-healing ankle and wrists. The cream never got used on her, leaving Callista with scars from where the chains rubbed her skin raw, the female chose to use the cream on Deimos and soldiers who trusted her for a moment.   
“I know, but you just-” Callista said, wincing at his hiss of pain, muttering apologies softly as she began to wrap his wound. “It was as if they weighed nothing, like an empty wine bottle,” the female said, her breath shaking slightly with each inhale and exhale she took.  
“His name was Epiktetos,” Deimos began, “he paid the debt he owed and is now with Hades.” The female only nodded in response, not able to speak. Callista finished bandaging his hand and dropped her hands into her lap gently, playing with a spare piece of cloth to ease her nerves. “That is why I tell you to stay here unless I’m with you out there; it’s too dangerous for you to be alone without the Ghost or myself. You and I both know that she is the only other one here that has any form of trust in you to not harm the Cult or me.”  
“I know, Deimos,” Callista said softly, standing to take care of the water bowl she had used. Someone would have to either get new water for them, or Deimos would go and get it himself. “I shouldn’t have followed you to the meeting room, I know, I’m sorry,” she said, back turned to him.   
Deimos sighed softly, walking to stand beside her, “Don’t do that: apologizing. You acted on instinct and nature, nothing you could’ve helped.” The male, being taller than Callista, gently rested his hand on her arm, standing beside her. “You did put yourself in danger, though. I can’t have you do that again.”  
Callista nodded, looking to Deimos, his gentle nature something she was still getting used to. He only showed it to her, and even then it was scarce that he was like this with her. She looked back to the bowl, still holding dirtied water from cleaning Deimos’ hand, then looked back to the demi-god. “What did the Artifact show you that took you so long to react with the second Cultist?” She asked, “You don’t have to tell me, your face said a lot of what was running through your mind, but Deimos you looked scared.” Deimos shook his head, and Callista looked back to her hands, “I understand,” she said with a slight smile.   
Deimos looked to the female, a small smile on his lips, "Let's rest, it's late into the night, now." 

In the morning, Callista woke to the loneliness of the room she had lived in for months. That became the routine: Callista would wake alone, get ready for the day, clean the room, then start on the evening meal she frequently shared with Deimos. The female hummed a lullaby her mother used to sing to her softly as she cooked a soup recipe. The soup was one she made to feel comfort and warmth, an old favorite. As the words softly fell from her lips, Callista found herself singing into the empty room; her voice was soft enough to not be heard outside of the room. The female was so focused on the pot in front of her that she did not hear the door opening and did not see Deimos walk into the room.   
When Callista stopped singing, she heard Deimos clap some which caused her to jump slightly, “Deimos! You-you scared me,” she admitted, a blush dusting her cheeks as the female looked to the male. “How long were you listening?” She asked.  
“Not too long, enough to realize that you’ve kept your talent from me,” Deimos said, moving to walk to sit at the make-shift table in the room.   
“Oh,” Callista said, “Well, how was your day? You left earlier than usual this morning,” the female mentioned, gently pulling her ebony curls into a loose braid to keep them from her face while she cooked more.   
“New Guardians think too highly of themselves,” Deimos muttered, prompting a soft smile to form on the female’s lips, “And I got the news of another mission for me. It will take me back to Kos.” Deimos saw the female he had grown so close to almost drop the spoon she was using suddenly at the name of her home island. “I want to know how you ended up being in the fort I cleared before I go. I want to know who put you there so I can add their names to this kill list,” Deimos said, his voice dark and deadly.   
Callista looked to him, “You already killed the ones who caused me pain, Deimos, so why inflict pain on others?” She asked.   
"Now you sound like you want to be an Athenian," Deimos muttered.  
Callista shook her head slightly, "No, I'm proud to have been born a Spartan, but I will say that none of this would have happened if I was born Athenian. The kidnapping, the Polemarch,” she said softly, her voice trailing off. Her dark blue eyes went to her wrists, the scars now lighter against her skin. The female had grown into the habit of picking at the scarred skin when she was deep in her thoughts or nervous, but her nails once again found their pattern of gently picking and scratching at the scars. "But that would also mean not being rescued from Kos at all. I'm glad my life has played this way."  
Deimos took Callista’s hand to stop her from breaking the still-tender skin on her wrist, “Do you want the wounds to reopen?” He asked with a condescending tone. Callista only shook her head slowly, not meeting his eyes. “Tell me who caused you this pain,” he said, his voice his normal tone he used with the Cult - demanding and godly.  
“I told you, Deimos, my father is the one who set the plan in motion to put me in the fort. Will I tell you his name? No. I have my siblings to protect from your Cult of Kosmos,” the dark-haired female said, taking her hand from his and looking to him. Deimos saw the power in her blue-hued eyes, eyes the color of the ocean waters at night. “Please, understand where I have to draw a line to stop telling you about my life before the fort. I did not fight to gain nothing from it, my brothers will stay safe from the Cult as long as I live. You have me, but never them.”   
Deimos nodded curtly, sighing some, "I understand," he said, then smirked, "but you know that we will find them anyway. I found out that the Polemarch I was told to end was not only an enemy to the Cult, but he had plans for the family of the leader of Kos. It is this family that we’re after. We want the sons to be trained under me, maybe turn them into full enlisted Cultists themselves. It would be a type of punishment for the family for turning against the Cult after so long of being allied with us.”  
All Callista could do was walk away from him, holding back her emotions as she turned away from him. “The Spartans of Kos are not as weak as you think, Deimos. The guards at the fort may have fallen easily, but the citizens are strong.” She absentmindedly began to serve the soup into two bowls.  
“Only a Leader would know how strong a country’s people are,” Deimos reasoned, looking Callista over to take in her defensive body language. “Or the family of the Leader.”  
Callista looked to Deimos as she brought him a bowl of soup and a spoon, “I know the people are strong because I was one of them, among the citizens daily until being trapped in the fort. The people fight for their livelihoods: money, food, animals, jobs, they fight for it all. The only ones who don’t struggle are the Leader and his family.”   
Deimos studied the female's words and her actions as she spoke, "Who are you?" He asked, muttering the words mostly to himself but they caught Callista's ear.  
"Gain my trust to know the answer, Deimos. For now, I am only the girl you saved from a life of "serving" the guards, Captains, and Polemarch at Artemisa Fort until they tired of me and killed me. Let me learn more about you, then you may learn about me."

What was this woman doing to him?


	5. Homeward Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get up! School's already kicking my ass, and I'm only two weeks in. 
> 
> I hope to have another chapter up before next Sunday!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Deimos had pulled some strings with the Ghost of Kosmos, allowing him to ask Callista if she wanted to accompany him back to Kos from Delphi. The mission would start on the eight-month anniversary of his mission to clear Artemisa Fort. When the demigod returned from his job, training the newest recruits until they broke into a Cultist, he saw Callista standing in the room, looking around for something. The male let his golden-hued eyes scan the female slightly; the dark purple dress she had been given looked as if it was made only for her body to wear - it fit her too perfectly - and the golden Cult-associated armbands complimented her skin and hair. He made a mental note to thank the Cultists who got her the dresses he had become accustomed to seeing her wear. “Lost something?” Deimos asked, finally making his presence known to the Kos-born female.  
Callista turned to see the male, “Not exactly,” she said as a soft smile graced her lips, that was something Deimos could never get tired of seeing, “I just wanted to surprise you.”   
“Surprise me?” The male asked, confusion showing in his voice. The dark-haired female nodded, the smile still present on her lips, “With what?” He asked.   
Callista turned to the bedroll the two of them had shared for close to three months now, picking something up from under her side of the bedroll. “I know the journey to Kos is not comfortable, and it is long,” she said, her back still to the demigod. Deimos had gotten her small gifts after she showed her loyalty to him and the Cult, starting with sewing supplies from Attica. She turned to face him, holding a small pillow, shaped like the ones on their bedroll, and a blanket sized for easy travel. “I hope these are to your liking, Deimos, I want you to return safely and comfortably.” In reality, the female had noticed how the boat-rides made Deimos tense and uneasy upon his return; she was always taken to the port by the Ghost of Kosmos upon Deimos’ request and noticed how he visibly relaxed when he was able to sleep on a real bedroll, not a ship’s floor.   
Deimos took the two soft objects, confused as to how to respond to her kind gesture. “I will make sure to return safely,” he muttered softly, but that still caused the female’s smile to grow slightly. “I do have something to ask of you in return, Callista.”  
Callista looked to the male, “What is it?” She asked, a look of concern crossing her features.   
“Would you like to come with me?” Deimos asked, “You would be by my side, in Cult dress, protected from prying eyes. You miss your home, Callista, don’t lie to me.” Of course, Callista missed her homeland, where she had been born, and where her family was from but was she willing to return to the island that had caused her so much pain knowing who Deimos was after?   
“I-I don’t know Deimos,” she said softly, carding her fingers through her black curls gently, “I do miss home, but I can’t face the people again. I know they will recognize me somehow,” she worried.   
Deimos was the one now concerned, “Why would they recognize you? You keep telling me that you were a normal citizen, but now I’m thinking you lied to me.” His voice turned from concerned to aggravated in seconds.  
Callista sighed softly, “I never lied to you, but kept information from you. If you want me to go, who am I to go against your wishes?” She asked, trying to calm the conversation back down.   
“You still have a choice, Callista,” Deimos said.   
The two soon ate and went to sleep, silence ending the conversation until Callista agreed to go under his protection.

Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of what her name meant: “most beautiful.” None of the Cultists averted their gaze when they saw the female beside him. Now on a ship owned by the Sage of the Gods of the Aegean Sea, the man had not been wearing his Cultist robes at the time he finally introduced himself as The Hydra when the demi-god and female boarded. Callista wore a black dress, symbolizing the Cultist guards the members normally wore when she saw them. Her sash was replaced with one looking like a snake of gold, the Cult’s symbol. She still wore an armband, but not the snake one that was given to her months ago; this one was a golden band with a small snake etched into it.   
When the ship docked on Kos, the female suddenly became nervous. “Let’s go,” Deimos said, looking to the female. He was more demanding in front of his Cultists to not show his emotions for the female in front of the ones who thought he was the emotionless demigod he was presented and trained to be.  
As the two walked, the male Sage grabbed the female’s arm roughly, making her gasp out in pain and shock, “Deimos, you’re sure you want her to go with you? She’d be much safer on the ship with us, out of the city,” The Hydra said, his voice showing darker intentions than keeping the female safe.   
“Let her go before I cut you down. I’d be happy to find a new Sage,” Deimos growled out, beginning to draw his sword slowly before Callista was let go.   
“Fine, here’s your little pet,” the older male said, looking the female over before smirking evilly. The look that was given her made Callista shudder slightly, backing up towards Deimos as the demigod gently pulled her to him.   
“You think about messing with my reward, your head will end up like Elpenor’s,” Deimos threatened, seeing the color drain from The Hydra’s face at the promise of death. Deimos walked Callista from the ship, looking over the city’s nightlife: parties going on in the distance, fires lit, some houses dark while some left candles glowing.   
"I've missed this," Callista said softly, a smile gracing her lips. She looked to the Leader's house, her house, and saw a figure standing on the balcony of the room she knew as her father's. "Malaka," she muttered, quickly hiding her face from his gaze.   
Deimos looked to her, not expecting the profanity to come from the normally-gentle female's mouth, "What? Are you okay?" Deimos asked, walking her towards the safety of a house the Cult secured for the two of them.  
"I am fine, just the city has changed some since I was last able to see it." The lie that left Callista made her heart drop slightly, but she knew she was protecting her family.   
Deimos looked to the female as they entered the safe house, “How long were you in the fort, then?” He asked.  
“It could have been months, Deimos,” Callista answered, hoping he wouldn’t pry for more information. “I was taken from my home, then put into the Polemarch’s quarters. That’s all I know,” she said, looking to him with sad eyes.   
The male walked to her, gently taking her hands into his, knowing nobody else could see, “I will soon find who let you get taken by those men, Callista. Then, you’ll have nothing more to worry about.”


	6. Safe or Not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall! I know this update has been a long time coming, but school has taken up a lot of my time, especially with the closing of my university and the movement of classes to all online. I will try to update as much as possible during this. :)

Two days into their stay on Kos, Callista walked around the market, hooded and in the black dress she was designated to wear. The kind-eyed female was at a produce stand, buying fruits and vegetables to make dinner for the man she traveled with and herself before a hand grabbed her arm from behind her.  
"I thought they killed you in the fort," the male said lowly into her ear, his voice was dark and violent.  
"I've never been in a fort, sir," Callista said, trying to pull from her father's grasp and walk away from the male she knew too well. The Leader of Kos, Ulysses the Angered, was the one who sent Callista to the fort to either die or give Sparta soldier’s spawns before they decided they were done with her: an easy way to get rid of the one thing that reminded him of his dead wife. Callista looked exactly like her mother and none like her father: curls black as the night sky, paler skin tone no matter how long she spent in the sun, and those kind ocean blue eyes her father grew quickly to hate. Out of his children, she was the only female and the only one who did not favor him.  
Ulysses chuckled darkly, “Why lie to me, child? I can see the scars on your wrists, they must be from the chains,” he said, beginning to pull her from the market and towards the Leader’s House, away from the house she was supposed to meet Deimos in hours later.  
Callista harshly pulled her arm from her father’s hold once they were out of the majority of the public’s eyesight, “You sent me there to die, yes, but I was saved by a man that can strike you down with Zeus’ power. I will not go back, not into the place you’ve turned into a sex-house after Mother made it a home for my brothers and me. Never,” she said, her tone matching in darkness with Deimos’, before turning and walking towards the safe house once again. She lifted her hood once more, calmly walking to the safe house, showing her armband to the guard at the door before walking in and finally letting out the shaky breath that she had struggled to keep in her lungs since the conversation with her father. 

The female had decided to make herself busy through the rest of the time Deimos was gone to try and forget what happened hours prior. No matter how hard she tried, her father’s voice echoed in her mind like a ghost.  
When Deimos walked in the door later in the day, Callista had her back to him as she cooked and hummed softly to keep the silence broken. "What smells so good?" The demigod asked.  
"Lamb stew," Callista answered shortly, not turning to face the male who saved her from that island months ago.  
"Are you ok? You're not your normal, meek and kind self," Deimos questioned, using the normal tone that he used with the Cult.  
Callista sighed softly, "I'm sorry, I'm not-" she paused to turn to the male slightly while stirring the stew, "I'm not feeling well. I'll dish some up for you then I'm going to head to sleep." She prayed silently that the demigod could not hear the slight lie pass through her lips. Sure, she did not feel well, but not most would think: her mind was plagued with worry for her brothers now that her father knew she made it out of Artemisa Fort alive. Callista turned back to the stew, dishing a serving for Deimos before setting the bowl with a plate of bread on the table for him. “Good night,” the female said before heading to the room that held their shared bedroll. Callista took off her armband and earrings before getting into the bed, facing away from the door and towards the window as she covered herself with the blanket available.

When Deimos went to get ready to sleep himself, he saw Callista’s face crossed with pain as she slept, the female hugging herself as if she was being hit. Suddenly, the female woke as her blue eyes shot open and her arms left her middle.  
“Deimos, when did you-”  
Deimos interrupted her by doing the same motion she did for him weeks ago in their room back in Delphi, opening his arms to her as he sat cross-legged on the bedroll beside her. The female looked to him with weary eyes before accepting his invitation, slowly moving to be in his hold as her arms wrapped around him gently. The movement she made shocked Deimos, not expecting her to take to him. “What caused you to wake?” He asked.  
Callista shook her head some, not verbally answering Deimos’ question as she relaxed in his hold; she felt safe in his arms. Safe.  
There was a sound from the front of the safe house that made Callista jump in Deimos’ hold as he looked towards the stairs. “Stay here unless I call for you,” the male said, his tone dark and deadly while protective and possessive. All the dark-haired female could do was nod her head slightly as she left his hold to back herself into a corner in the room away from the stairs. Deimos wielded the Sword of Damokles as he walked down the stairs, the weapon glowing with a mysterious and mystical life that the female had never seen before.  
All Callista could focus on was her heart racing in her chest, her breaths coming in quick and sharp inhales as she tried to control the worry and panic that rose in her chest as she prayed to any god or goddess that would listen to the female’s pleas for Deimos’ safety. It was then that the female heard a commotion from outside the safe house as she went to look out of the window, Deimos throwing a Spartan soldier to the ground, his sword sheathed on his side. Callista ducked from the soldier’s sight, only able to see Deimos’ mouth moving but not able to hear the words he said; she could only guess that he threatened the younger male as Deimos sent him running off. Deimos looked to the window, Callista easily reading the anger in his eyes from the second level of the house before she rushed to move from the window and back into her corner.  
“You lied to me,” Deimos suddenly said, Callista’s gaze snapping to the male she did not hear walk into the room.  
“What did the-”  
“Are you his daughter, Callista? The Leader’s daughter?” Deimos yelled the questions at the smaller, frightened female before him. The silence, tears in Callista’s eyes, and the way she looked down was the only answer the demigod needed before he stomped out of the room.  
Callista’s eyes widened, running after him, grabbing his arm fearlessly, “Don’t kill him,” was all her small voice said in the silence. “Please,” she pleaded as her voice became tainted with her sadness and the tears that now left trails on her pale cheeks. “Let my family stay how it is, my brothers don’t need to experience any more pain. They must think I’m dead or long gone and never coming back,” she said, thinking of her two brothers who she was so close to growing up.  
“Callista-” The male began to growl out.  
“No, Deimos!” The female said, her hand dropping from his arm as she trusted him not to leave the safe house. “Think of them, please,” she whispered as the male turned to face her, “Think of me.” She knew that she was possibly Deimos’ only weakness, the one thing he would die to protect, as he had said to other Cultists when he thought she was in the room and not with the Ghost of Kosmos and under her protection. When someone even mentioned Callista, or something vulgar about her, Deimos would get very protective and beat the person within inches of their death bed.  
Demios turned to Callista, his eyes filled with anger that made the golden hue of them brighter and more intimidating. “He sent you to die in that fort, by the hands of the guards he puts his trust in!” The male yelled, his anger projecting through his voice. “The guard came looking for you to “finish what your father started by sending you to the fort” Callista! He wanted to either kill you or take you back, would you want that?” He asked, anger showing in his steps towards the female, backing her against a wall quickly.  
“I swore I would never go back to him, Deimos! Never!” The female yelled back at the male, her voice and eyes showing her fear, anger, and sadness from her tone. “You don’t want to know what he made me believe, Deimos. As a child I thought-” she said, stopping when a soft sob escaped her lips as she tried to push past him, or push him away from her. Her father had trained her to not show emotions outwardly through the punishments he gave her as a child, “Even though I’m the second-born, he made me believe that my mater’s death was my fault,” she said, not meeting the demigod’s eyes as she spoke. “I was only thirteen,” she whispered, her hands falling by her sides as they slightly shook. Deimos backed away from the female, looking to her as she cried. Callista never showed weaknesses, seeing her broken made something shift in the demigod’s mind: he had to protect her and save her from what made her feel weak.  
The male, unsure of how to reply only said, “I’m sorry, Callista.”  
“If he comes for me again, let me go,” Callista said softly as she looked to the male, “Follow or send a Guardian if you want, but let me get my brothers a way out of what can only be compared to Hades’ home and what my mater left to me; her ring.” Deimos’ eyes flashed with anger at the female’s words, “That or we leave Kos so he does not come for me again while we’re here. You may be able to use this house if we clear out by tomorrow morning before Helios brings the sun.”  
Deimos sighed softly, gently pulling the female to his chest, “We will not leave until my mission is completed here, Callista. My mission is to bring down the Leader a few pegs, but now all I want to do is put an end to him and your suffering.”  
Callista sighed softly, relaxing into the male’s hold, “For my brothers’ sakes, don’t harm him,” she said softly. “If he comes for me, watch where he takes me to, I won’t fight him this time.”  
“This time?” Deimos asked, looking at Callista, eyes filled with anger and worry. “What do you mean this time?”  
Callista looked into Deimos’ eyes as she answered, “He tried to drag me out of the city while I was at the market today,” she admitted.  
Deimos’ golden-hued eyes darkened as they filled with anger, “Let’s see what he tries next, and then I’ll deal with him.” Nobody would hurt his prize, his reward, his Callista ever again.


End file.
